


Train

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Other: See Story Notes, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vignette, trains of thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Train

## Train

by Spyke

Author's website:  <http://www.geocities.com/spyke_raven>

Jim and Blair are not mine.

Vignette, trains of thought. That was a pun, or will be. Experimental as hell, of course.   
Warnings. Okay. It's a vignette. A snapshot. That should warn you. Also, brief references to criminal activity and m/m relationship.   
Post TSbyBS. As almost always.   


* * *

\-- 

You'll get on the train at the same time everyday. You won't drag any attention to yourself - don't initiate any conversations, try not to make eye-contact. If the train's too full, get on the next. 

Be inconspicuous. 

Wear the kind of clothes we've seen they normally wear - soft blue jeans, T-shirts, slacks. Work shirts. Normal clothes. Clothes any man or woman would wear. Nothing flashy. You're looking to become invisible. 

Take a book. He likes the readers. 

Read the book. No headphones. 

Ride to the terminals. Get off at the same station every day. Establish a routine and stick to it. He'll notice. 

We estimate contact will be made within two weeks, if we're lucky. If we're lucky and he takes the bait. 

Try to look like bait. 

Questions? Anyone? 

\-- 

9.30 p.m. 

Two men got on at Burlington Square, tanned, drenched, casually dressed in sweats and laughing with the ease of long friends or brothers. 

Blair looked up from his book. 

"...you'll drip if you sit, no way Josh, keep standing. It's only a couple of stops, wuss." 

"Wuss yourself," but Josh leaned against the wall and smiled at his friend. 

The train lurched slightly and "Whoa, easy," the man had an arm around Josh's shoulders, bracing him. "Steady." 

"Steadied," but the arm stayed where it was, loosely encircling Josh, who didn't seem to mind. 

Blair looked down at his book. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the two men standing comfortably embraced all the way to the interchange, which was when they shouldered backpacks and walked off, talking effortlessly, not touching but still creating a tight controlled space around them that, now that Blair recognized it, was pretty much inviolate from the rest of the world. 

The train doors closed, shutting out the view. 

Jim spoke quietly in his ear. "You okay?" 

Blair put down his book to answer. "Fine." 

It wasn't exactly a lie. 

\-- 

We're guessing at his MO. He chooses the quiet ones, the lonely ones who create a routine and stick to it. People who don't seem like they'll be missed if they slip through the cracks, people who ride the train late at night and are used to being alone. People who don't look like they think too much outside the box. 

He- or she, but I'd say he - he's probably no one you'd give a second glance, someone not too threatening in appearance. We're not looking for someone who'd give you the heeby-jeebies at first sight, we're looking for an average Joe. And we know this because that's who _he's_ looking for too. 

People like him. People who won't scare him or be scared by him. People whom he identifies with. 

People like you, and me too. 

He's probably got a history of suicide, one, maybe two attempts. That doesn't help us because no one's got that tattooed on their forehead, have they? Maybe he's enacting his own death through his victims. 

No penetration, no semen, no sex. This is not about sex to him. We know that much. 

It may help to think of him as human, as vulnerable as you and me. Human enough to see himself as God. Maybe he sees himself as liberating these people from an endless boring life, by association, his own. Maybe he sees himself as relieving pain. 

Questions anyone? 

\-- 

9.35 p.m. 

"So where the hell are you?" 

"Um." 

Silence. 

"Jesus." 

"Uh, Jim." 

Sound of flesh hitting a wall. Blair winced. "Jim, c'mon." 

"Your car?" 

"Dead." 

"And it didn't occur to you to call me." 

"Hey, you were on shift, man. Besides I'm a big boy now. I can take care of myself." 

"Sure you can." 

"Was that sarcasm?" 

"No." 

"Was that muttering?" 

"NO!" 

"Okay, that sure wasn't." 

Jim laughed. They held on, warming themselves in the silence. 

The cell phone beeped mildly. 

"Jim? I'm coming to a tunnel. Think I'll be losing signal a while." 

"Okay." But he didn't disconnect. 

"Jim?" 

Jim didn't say it but Blair heard anyway, listening until the tunnel cut them off. 

He replaced the phone, smiling slightly. 

The windows reflected light and glinted off his teeth. Blair shut his mouth, grimacing. 

The little girl sitting opposite caught the expression and stuck her tongue out at him. 

He didn't return the favor. 

\-- 

The wire is your friend. So is this cell phone. Keep both on at all times. Unfortunately, thanks to our tunnel system it's likely you'll be out of touch with your colleagues for part of the time. 

Be careful. Your job is live bait, but that means the traditional definition has to apply. Do what you have to and be careful. 

Questions? Anyone? 

\-- 

9.45 p.m. 

His cell rang again. 

"Hello?" 

Jim on the other line, voice tight like he didn't want to speak. "Megan's got a live one at Central. Crossover at the next interchange and make your way to Lexington." 

Blair glanced out the window. "It'll take me twenty minutes at least." 

"Okay." Blair pretended not to hear the relief as the phone crackled. "Hold on for a second." More crackle. "Oh." 

"What?" 

"She kneed him for making a lewd suggestion." 

"Ouch." Blair crossed his legs reflexively, grinning a little. "Not our man." 

A breath, explosively released. "Probably not." 

" _Probably_ not? I profiled the guy Jim, this is practically my sting." Trust me went unspoken. 

Jim heard it anyway. 

"You're not bait," Sharp, biting, daring him to say something. 

"Not this week, no." Because there would be the next time. And another, and another, and there would be harder things he'd have to do and maybe one day one of them would involve a gun. But they'd made the choice together and Blair wasn't exactly unhappy about it. 

Jim snorted. "Blair, listen." 

"Yeah?" 

... 

"Hey, this is expensive air time you're wasting, buddy." 

Sound of swallowing, maybe a laugh. Blair imagined the line of Jim's throat, slightly emphasized the way it was when he lay on top, holding on by the slightest thread, Adam's apple straining. He swallowed too. Not a laugh. Leaned into the cell like it could communicate touch. 

"Come home," Jim said. 

"I intend to," Blair replied. 

\-- 

Everyone got their copy of the duty roster? Good. Then if that's all, I'd like to thank all of you for coming. 

Good luck, people. I've a feeling we're going to need it for this one. 

Break a leg if you must. 

Preferably his. 

I'll be in my office if anyone has any questions. 

\-- 

Jim was waiting at the station like Blair knew he would be. He made a mental note not to tweak the guy about being unprofessional. They were technically still in the honeymoon phase and - which did that make him, anyway? Groom or bride? 

His partner glowered as he pushed through the stile, arm already poised to encircle Blair's shoulders and bring him safely through the crowds. Blair submitted, allowing himself only a, "I'm the last person you should be worrying about." 

"You're the first person I worry about," Jim muttered, magically steering them through the occasional breaks in the sea of persons milling around them. "You and a train. It's an accident waiting to happen." 

"Jim. Nothing happened." 

"This time. Careful," pulling Blair away from the path of an incoming stroller and towards the exit. Guiding them both to the truck, hand slipping lower, daringly low, a promise and an invitation on Blair's waist. Making a tight space, inviolate, where they could walk together. 

Blair smiled. He laughed. 

Jim looked at him quizzically. 

Blair held out his hand. "I'll drive," he said, waiting for the inevitable. 

Jim looked at him oddly but fished in his pocket and handed over the keys in a movement made awkward by the fact that they were so close. "Sure," the word coming almost naturally now. 

Blair handed them back. "Just checking," he said. 

Jim shook his head. "And he wonders why I worry about him." 

"No," said Blair, slipping his arm around Jim's waist in turn, squeezing lightly. "No, I know why you do." 

And when they reached the truck, Blair let Jim drive. This time. 

He'd taken the train. 

~ End. 

* * *

Blair as profiler. Blair as thinker. Jim as... Jim. Trains. It comes together for me. 

Talk to me? spyke_raven@yahoo.com 

* * *

End Train by Spyke: spyke_raven@yahoo.com

Author and story notes above.

  
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